The Harsh Light of Day
by AnnaScheele
Summary: A alternative take on the possibility of Archie/Horatio *slash*


The Harsh Light of Day

_AnnaScheele_

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Rating: Pg-13 (tame)

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Warnings: Not for romantics

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Pairing: Horatio/Archie (ish) Archie/OMC

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Disclaimer: Not mine, I stand on the shoulders of giants

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Notes: OK, so I was reading this rant about how effeminate so many characters are in slash fic, and also the problem of the whole 'I'm not gay it's just him' mentality. Reading it gave me the idea for this story, and I hope you'll see why. The truth is that sexism (e.g. not wanting to be like women) has pervaded much classic homosexuality - such as the Ancient Greeks who would not allow relationships between men of the same age as it was demeaning for one of them to be 'lowered' to a female position, that was only acceptable in young men, slaves and actual females.

On the other hand, some gay men actively choose to be effeminate - i.e. drag queens. This kind of homosexuality is often what people have found most threatening. 

This story attempts in a very small way to examine those problems, and give us more Archie * yay * ! I would warn HH/AK shippers, though, that this isn't all sweetness and light and lovefesting.

Ooh, I'm gonna get in so much trouble for this - I am dedicated to HH/AK, I just wanted to try something…different….

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I think I've fallen in love with him, despite all my efforts.

I want him, definitely.

He wants me, what's better.

But he doesn't love me.

He doesn't even want * me *. He wants gratification, and relief.

And I can give it to him because I choose to do what he has to.

I wish I could explain it to him. That I have never loved women, only men. That I dream of them alone, and more recently only of him. That I have no wish to marry or settle down with any woman.

He, on the other hand, will fall for some nice girl and have five children. For him, what we do is just a rehearsal for the real drama of marriage. 

I cannot complain. I wanted this so badly I thought I would go insane. I'm lucky that he isn't disgusted by me entirely. But he sees only two friends, close friends admittedly, but friends in youthful impetuosity helping each other out.

Does he understand that I'd die for him? 

Does he know that I have the sin that felled Gomorrah? That I have frequently and with much pleasure indulged in that most heinous of acts - sodomy?

For he and I, when we 'interact', have never even talked of it. I would never dream of suggesting such a thing. No, Grecian scholar that he is, he prefers a nice mutual fuck between the thighs.

Clean, clear, simple. Not effeminate or lowering. 

I think of the time in Drury Lane when I dressed up in the gown of the leading lady in 'Romeo and Juliet', I think it was, and Paul pretended to woo me as a lady as I sang and danced and generally suffered the effects of too much alcohol. Then he pulled my hair from its queue and arranged it as did the actresses' when he assembled their costumes.

He called me 'Alice', and that night…even now that night taunts me in the heat of my tiny bed, and calls mockingly from the past, the beautiful past…

Paul understood me, as I did him. We knew full well what we were, and we didn't care. We loved each other and we knew that we did in the same way that a man may love a wife or she him. 

I sometimes wonder what Horatio would say if he knew I had played the wife in more ways than just dressing up in a gown. 

Tell me everything was alright, probably, that's his answer to anything.

But inside he would loathe me, because he * can't * understand. Not ever. When Horatio comes to me with that look in his eyes I cannot refuse him, because I love him too much to watch him suffer, or too hurt his feelings.

He might kiss me, one day. He never will now. Sometimes he holds me close afterwards and thanks me, but it could not be termed a caress.

In that respect he is somewhat like Jack. Oh, inifinitely a better person, and only communing with me with my consent, but still uninterested in engaging with my feelings. 

No kisses. No held hands. No gentle touches to the face or back or winks when you have to remove your shirt.

Paul sometimes told me I was too much like a woman. Demanding attention and love, wishing for soft words and caresses. But he loved me deeply for it, and with him alone have I ever acted as I would wish to. 

Sometimes, however, lovers argue. Sometimes they fight and threaten to leave. Sometimes one of them gets really drunk and decides to join the Navy.

Sometimes we loose the dearest thing we ever possessed and have to watch even the country where we possessed it disappear over the horizon...

And Jack, well, he knew what he was - a bully. But in that strange way people sometimes have he did not seem to care that I was a man, he was evil, greedy, lustful, but not prejudiced.

Defending Jack now! Shows how well I've managed to forget.

Horatio and I, we manage. But we aren't right. We are friends and it were best we had never been more. He cannot understand me any more than he would a man from the Moon, my lack of ambition, my fears, my pessimism. At least, he thinks it's that, it's memories of Paul, usually.

I'm not bitter, and I've learned not to be sad. 

Just empty.


End file.
